I like to be butt naked. With socks. The fuzzy ones for cold nights. I have found my sleeps most rewarding. And I feel the wind. Or the wind feels me. It’s smooth like your kisses and tongue. It’s careful yet rough. I mean. Sleep has gotten better. I’ve written of your discoveries. Of your … More Sleep
There are little words left in the mouth of this prophet. Hands are numb. Fingers have no feelings. I have succumbed to old age. And when I think of you. Of the past and the future that could of been. I realize. I know I could of loved and worshipped you like holidays, the holy … More Like Holy Days
Slow. Naked in waterfalls off the small trails from main roads. Glistening in rare Ithaca sunshine. Beauty. Your body is a palace. Taj Mahal and Stonehenge. When you walk, when you talk. Knees buckle like heavy squats. Its been too long, the tension in these heartbeats, the speed in these pulses. I have not been … More Molasses
Festivities. Bring the wine. Bring the winery. The fresh and frozen grapes. Bring them all. I have stories to recount. Of how I conquered Rome. Of how I slayed the giants and the basilisk. The centaur and the siren. Oh marvelous things. How I have found freedom in engagements beyond the flesh. I have tales … More Bacchanalia
Appropriation aint never been sexy. But when I write about the wisdom passed down by the Bodhisattva’s it’s not for glory of my own. I write for knowledge and exposure. These were my readings as a child. Father had the Kama sutra in his library, in Spanish, still can’t read it but the images are … More Sutras and 40s
Moon devouring, Sun spitting, Earth splitting, gravity shaking monuments called your hips. Tell them how you rattled Sodom & Gomorrah, and Los Angeles. Lips like napalm and strawberry daiquiris. Learned you like childhood nurseries. Kama sutra, all the sutras, I mean I have found Bodhisattvas deep in your wounds.
I’ve caught you staring, piercing through cavities, you’ve fallen for love, you’ve got wisdom in your mouth like teeth, tell me everything. Do you stand a chance. Have you mustered caution to the wind. Darling, I mean beautiful queen, I said your highness I’ve come to learn of the trivial things. Trails to your passageways, … More Too Much Yet Not Enough